November 29, 2017

Holiday Donation Drive!

Woohoo! Exciting stuff, right?! Yeah, okay, so it's more annoying and intrusive. Very annoying, I understand. But December 1 is two days away. Two days, yikes. I am close to broke. I have a little cash, which I'm saving for an emergency. The credit card I use for groceries and other necessities is maxed out. Nothing left there. So I have no funds for rent, internet service, and a few other bills that are due this week and next.

Any and all donations will be received with profound gratitude. I'd prefer to avoid a pre-"reform" Scrooge Christmas, and I'm not quite ready to die and decrease the "surplus population." Recently, my body seems to be disagreeing with that assessment; I've had a couple of bad scares in the last few weeks. But I'm still hanging in, and I'm very happy that the writing bug has returned. (I wasn't able to do what I had planned in November primarily because of my numerous physical infirmities. I was semi-comatose for most of the month.)

I posted a new piece yesterday. In passing, I mentioned the current "hot" topic, sexual harassment. As I've thought more about it over the last few weeks, I realize that I have quite a lot to say on that topic, and its two primary components: the very real, awful problem of sexual harassment (and, not infrequently, sexual assault), and the public performance aspect which consumes all media at the moment. I've come across very little commentary which analyzes these two aspects of the problem in a satisfactory manner.

So I think the next articles will deal with this subject. I've already begun the first of those pieces. And because it is part of that subject but doesn't comfortably fit in with the themes I'll be developing -- but is simply too delicious to ignore -- consider this:

Think ahead to the end of your life. And think about what you would like to be remembered for at the end of your life. It’s not honor. It’s not prestige. It is character. It is integrity. It is truth. It is doing the right thing. It’s hard to imagine or think about that when you’re 22. It’s easy when you’re 73.

I never could stand Rose. He's always been a pompous, smug, insufferably self-satisfied nincompoop. He never offered even a single, exceedingly small original thought. And he was more than a little creepy. To read those remarks from 2015 in light of recent events ... sometimes, life is better than fiction. Not often enough, but sometimes.

Much more to come about all that. In the meantime, donations will help keep Sasha and me going. Thank you thank you thank you!!! And I hesitate to mention it, lest I be accused of too obviously trying to tug at your hearts, but if I receive enough in donations, Sasha will be going to the vet. Something(s) is going on with her -- not what I was so concerned about some months ago and it doesn't appear to be unduly serious -- but something's not right. She ought to be checked out; if I had the funds, she'd already have been to the vet.

Many, many thanks for your consideration, as always. If all goes according to current plans, a new post will be up in two or three days.